


Over You

by orphan_account



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Drinking to Cope, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-23
Updated: 2013-10-23
Packaged: 2017-12-30 06:30:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1015302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bones must learn to cope in a world without Jim Kirk - but can he ever get over him?</p><p>Inspired by Miranda Lambert's song 'Over You'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Over You

Having to face that cold, empty bed is one of the most constant reminders of Jim’s absence. The sheets still smell of him slightly and Bones is afraid to wash them, afraid to erase the last remnants of him. That’s why Bones is still in Iowa, even though it’s the middle of February and snow still blankets the ground in the most unnatural way. Like even the sky is mourning the loss of Jim, even the Universe can understand Bones’ grief. But the grief has turned to fear too. The fear of having to face their apartment alone, the fear of not having that ever constant smile to reassure him and those hands to keep him grounded and safe. Captains hands – strong and sure. Steady.

Accept they’re cold too now. Bones should be used to the cold, with how hollow and empty his heart feels. He doesn’t know how it’s still pumping blood around his body. He’s frozen inside. Comes home every day and hopes to God this has all been a sick dream.

He’d give anything to be back on _the Enterprise_ , back in space, if it meant Jim was there with him. It feels like only yesterday they _were_ on _the Enterprise_. They’d spent the first half of Christmas day wrapped up in each other’s warmth, exchanging gifts and kisses, then they’d headed down to the mess, basked in the glow of their crew, their family. So much joy and light.

Now it’s just darkness.

Jim’s gone. He’s left Bones all alone. It made Bones angry at first. How _dare_ he leave, without a second thought, a goodbye. But now, now Bones is just full of this sorrowful ache. This bone-deep need. He misses Jim so badly. Sometimes he doesn’t know if he can function. Nyota, Carol, Christine and Janice, they’ve all tried to comfort him, all tried to alleviate the lung crushing pain of loneliness and loss. Not having Jim in the world causes Bones physical pain and Spock’s clinical estimations and words of consoling just turn to bitter ash the moment they reach Bones ears. He’s never going to get over Jim, not in two months, not in two years, not in two decades.

Jim was it for him. Jim was Bones’ second chance and now that’s ruined. Ended. Never again is he going to look upon those beautiful blue eyes.

Because how can he move on when he can’t stop thinking about Jim. Nothing he does puts Jim out of his mind. He could drink himself silly and all it would accomplish is letting everyone in Riverside know for certain just how much he’s not coping. How much he can’t move on. It’s like Bones is still clinging to the possibility Jim will walk back into their quiet Iowan apartment and fill the house with his laughter and his beauty.

But he won’t.

Bones is just alone in the house. Whether he’s replicating dinner or sat curled up on the sofa with tear tracks every which way down his cheeks. But consciously thinking of Jim is also the only time Bones can get any peace. When Jim’s words are filling his head and the sight of him is captured inside Bones’ eyelids the storm goes quiet. In those moments Bones isn’t afraid because Jim isn’t dead. He’s right there. Their hands could almost touch.

Bones does a lot of things for Jim now that he’s gone. He cooks Jim’s favourite foods, steers clear of anything that might induce an allergic reaction. He buys the vanilla shower gel Jim used even though Bones always thought it smelled strange off of him.

He buys old vinyl records like the ones Jim told him he’d grown up with – the one thing Frank was good for. He plays Jim’s favourites. It makes his heart thumb a little softer. His pulse slows slightly. He thinks about dancing with Jim, just slow and intimate little sways in the kitchen or romantic twirls around the Christmas tree. He can hear the low rasp of Jim’s voice in his ear, feels his breath on the back of his neck. The hair on Bones’ neck rises. For a moment everything is okay again.

But then the music will stop. He’ll open his eyes. And Jim _isn’t_ there.

It really sinks in when Bones heads down to the shipyard. That’s where they erected the memorial. He stares at it with hate-filled tears in his eyes. It was just meant to be a command conference, nothing special, nothing dangerous. They’d been in space for the last five years for Christ’s sake, he’d come back from the dead and saved the world from Nero. Just a strategically placed explosive. That’s all it took - one act of mindless terrorism by a group of people that had no reason to want Jim dead. He was just an innocent in a fray between those much higher up in the chain of command.

But now Bones is met with the cold engraved steel. A name. A date. A pitiful apology.  

 _Captain James T. Kirk  
_ _March 22 nd 2233 – January 15th 2266  
_ _We commemorate his loyalty, his bravery and his sacrifice._

Bones goes home and drinks a bottle of Bourbon, then cries himself to sleep. Mostly he hopes he won’t wake up. Because everyone keeps saying he’ll be okay. But he won’t. He won’t get over Jim and he’s not going to wake up one day with a miraculous smile on his face.

He never can sleep for very long. He wakes up haunted by a face he’ll never again get to touch, lips he’ll never again have the chance to kiss. He rummages through the record collection looking for something in particular. He finds that old country record. Not one he ever bought but an old one Jim’s brought along with him through the years. There’s a coffee stain on the wallet and one of the corners are bent. It’s a country record. Bones remembers Jim making him listen to all the fast paced tracks a joking about throw downs. But the track Bones is listening to now, the one that rips the breath from his lungs and knocks him for six. The one that makes Bones know for certain this won’t get better. It’s softer, so sad, so broken. Just how Bones feels. Brittle, like he’ll collapse at any moment.

He wants to go straight for the bottle again and it’s only half six in the morning. But what else does he have? Just this sorrow and this anger and this emptiness.

He certainly doesn’t have Jim.

 

_Cause you went away, how dare you?_  
 _I miss you_  
 _They say I'll be ok_  
 _But I'm not going to ever get over you._

 


End file.
